


Adagio For Strings, op. 11

by DarkmoonSigel



Series: The Notes Played In Between [10]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blind Character, But not how you think, Cannibalism, Domestic, Eye Contact, M/M, Not Beta Read, Self Harm, blind will, c'mon you knew that was coming, cause I wrote the sex, kinda cause it's Hannibal, rating jump, will figuring it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:14:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will figures it out and blinds himself.<br/>Not Beta Read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Adagio For Strings, op. 11 was composed by Samuel Osmond Barber II who was an American composer of orchestral, opera, choral, and piano music. He is one of the most celebrated composers of the 20th century. The piece is beautiful and moving yet sweetly sad.
> 
> I obviously do not own anything.  
> No beta.
> 
> Here's your obligatory Blind fic.

Eyes.

Sometimes referred to as the ‘windows to the soul’.

Most of the time they saw too little.

Sometimes though they saw too much.

In Will Graham’s case, it was the latter though when it came to certain things….certain some ones…..he let his eyes be covered willingly because the reality of it all was too bloody and brutal for him to handle. As it was, his grasp on what was real was so tentative and fleeting. He knew things though, had known the truth all along. It had been sitting fat and ugly in the back of his mind, waiting for him to take notice of it. When the truth got tired of waiting and being ignored by its incredibly stubborn keeper, it sent out its envoy in the shape of a feathered stag to lope through Will’s mind, to guide him to it. 

Epiphany, as unsettling and sharp as witness to lighting move over open water, came to Will while in Lecter’s office, the empath alone and waiting for the doctor to return as he made a firm goodbye to a rather tenacious patient. Will had been looking idly over some of Hannibal’s artwork, admiring the intricate detail of the pencil drawings. The man really did have a gift for the complex and apparently the graphic as Will shifted through the drawings, coming upon a rather explicit depiction of the Wound Man…..

……whose countenance was one of the Chesapeake Ripper’s victims.

His mind going blank with deafening static, Will became aware of the stag towering over him from behind. It was breathing down his neck, the scent of spilled blood and certainty coming off it in heated puffs that made Will‘s skin slick with ill sweat. Hands shaking, body trembling as the information transferred itself from the hindered subconscious to the open consideration, Will was finding it a challenge to keep breathing in a normal fashion, like the actuality had suddenly grown claws and was bearing down upon him, trying to choke the life from him for his failure to see what had been in front of him all along.

Will recognized himself though and he knew that he was intelligent and perceptive to a detrimental fault, so why hadn’t he known that the monster was in the room with him. It was Occam’s razor in a nutshell. The obvious answer was that he had let himself overlook the obvious, to turn his gaze away from the horrific answer he had known all along. Will had placed the scales over his own eyes and let himself to led around by a serial killer, an artistic murderer, a devourer of human flesh. 

His world closing in on him, Will told himself he should have known that this was all too good to be true, this safe little corner he had carved out for himself with Hannibal. He was never meant to have anything good in his life and that was all Hannibal had been to him. The warm memories of delicious meal taken together, of easy times spent in each other’s company, of the growing momentum in their relationship that had moved on from just clinical to passionate wavered in his mind like over cooked air over scorching asphalt. All of it burned and turned to ash in Will’s mind, leaving him feeling chilled as ice water sorrow flowed through his vein to replace his blood. It carved out his insides until it felt like nothing was left, he left so incredibly empty. 

They could never be together again after this, now that Will knew, now that he had seen Hannibal’s design. Even if he somehow managed not to inform Jack of his quarry’s identity, Will wore stress too painfully and openly, the jagged suit of it cutting through into the skin to mutilate his core, shredding it beyond recognition. There was a distinct possibility that he would not survive under the weight of this growing burden. Will could already feel it crushing the life out of him, his fingers and toes going numb and stiff as he slowly began to lose life through his pores. Revelation was like poison to him, eating into his flesh and leaving behind rot in its wake. 

Will looked around the room as if for some sort of escape. He only found the Chesapeake Ripper staring back at him from every corner of the room. If one knew what to look for and where to look, Hannibal was clearly telling everyone who and what he was. The man was utterly shameless and so proud of what he had accomplished while everyone was looking on but no one was bothering to see him. They were all witness to Hannibal’s art, a captive audience bound in chains of ignorance to keep watching the show he painted for them in broad, colorful strokes of hell on earth. His bliss now stripped from him by the bastard truth, Will wanted to scream, feeling the sensation trapped under his chin like a fluttering bird in his too tight throat. It promised never to end its raw song of anguish if he let it out though so he painfully swallowed it down, breaking its neck. 

His world without Hannibal was gray and lifeless, promising only a sort of loneliness that Will knew would end him eventually now that he had been shown better, known better. An ache borne of separation and loss would whittle him down to sallow skin and bare bones in its grief filled cuts and scrapes to leave him a caricature of himself. 

Thanks to Hannibal, Will had been damned to appearance not only kindness and comfort, but also acceptance in the form of well cooked meals, light careful touches, and near immeasurable patience. Bringing the truth out into the light meant that these things would be taken from him forever. Even worse when Hannibal was revealed, everyone else would revile him by association, his friendship with the Ripper a social plague.

Will had never been seen as normal, always the outsider growing up, his social interaction a lifetime of daily failures. Like everything else in his life, his relationship with Hannibal would be scrutinized, broken down, torn apart, and ultimately judged, found wanting and condemned. That was if they managed to apprehend Hannibal alive.

If Hannibal’s capture and incarceration didn’t kill him, the man himself would if he were it escape. Even if he decided not to tell Jack or the authorities about his discovery, Will was a dead man walking. The empath was fluent in all things Hannibal now and knew that he would never let him live, at least not for much longer. The Ripper’s survival instincts was too keen for him not to. Will was a threat to his existence and would ultimately have to be dealt with in a permanent fashion. 

Even as these thoughts churned in his mind and venomously bit at it, Will found a solution to all his problem in the most unlikely of places as his gaze alighted upon Hannibal’s desk, gleaming bright and silver. He walked toward it, feeling strangely light in his movements, his mind clear as he reached for the tool of his salvation with hands that did not shake or were hindered by hesitation and fear. It was so simple, it just might work.

His resolve kept him silent, only a high pitched whine escaping his tightly pressed together lips as Will pulled back the lid of his left eye to make room for the scalpel’s blade. Bittersweet tears of sorrow and joy mingled, readily turning scarlet with success.

oOo

Hannibal noticed the scent of blood before he even reentered the room. It was prevalent enough that the doctor quickened his step in order to locate its most likely source. This wound didn’t smell like a paper cut to him. It was thick and layered with the bitter odor of suppressed pain, souring the more pure metallic overtones of the crimson fluid. He would be displeased if his favorite experimentation in the human psyche decided to ruin all his plans by doing something unfortunate though self harm could be contained and treated. He didn’t think Will had it in him, but suicide would be rather permanent as well as a disappointment. Hannibal hated boring endings. 

Will was found readily enough , his back turned toward the doctor as he looked out the window. Though he appeared to be calm and collected as Hannibal move toward him, the doctor noted that Will held a bloody scalpel in one hand while the other loosely clutching at something Hannibal couldn’t quite make out just yet. It was dripping scarlet into his expensive rugs though, ruining the intricate knotting of long dead Persians. 

Approaching Will softly from behind as not to startle the man into afflicting further injury upon himself, Hannibal soon realized there was no need for it. Will’s eyes were closed, the lids of them were unnaturally sunken in, the crescent slits glued closed with wept blood and other vicious fluids that oozed thickly down his cheeks. It didn’t take a huge mental leap to realize what Will held in his hand now or what had just occurred while in his absence. 

“So you have finally figured it out.” Hannibal said softly, taking a place beside Will who only nodded back in answer. 

“I believe I told you that self harm was not recommended.” Hannibal continued. Will shrugged, the gesture half hearted like his mind was elsewhere at the moment. Hannibal thought it might be a distinct possibility actually and wondered for a second where Will‘s mind was walking now that he had freed himself of a sense. 

“Will you be letting Jack or the FBI in on what you have learned today, what you have known all along?” Hannibal asked even though he already knew the answer. Out of habit, Will turned his head toward him, shaking it. 

“May I please have my scalpel back? I think you have done enough damage today with it. ” Hannibal took Will’s armed hand in his own without waiting for an answer, his grip upon it light, his touch almost tender as he removed the sticky blade from Will’s loose hold upon it with his handkerchief. He set the scalpel off to the side, its value as of yet undetermined.

“What guarantee do I have that you will keep my secrets?” Hannibal asked, turning Will gently by the shoulders so that they faced one another. He admired the way that the empath wept blood, the rivulets turning black. Will was like his very own ruined Botticelli angel, made tender flesh and broken will by the kind of truths that kills. 

In answer, Will held up his other hand, unfurling it to reveal his ruined vision, the orbs mostly intact to the doctor‘s mild surprise as Will met his gaze unflinching for the last time from the palm of his hand. He silently offered them to Hannibal who took them with a smile, his real one that still remained unseen by the living. 

“Thank you, Will.” Hannibal said as he placed them in his mouth to swallow the sightless blue eyes down. He licked his fingers clean of any trace of blood and ocular viscera, savoring rare flavors of sight.

 

oOo

“This is all your fault! You let him get too close, see too much. You knew what that did to him!”

“I needed him to look! People were dying!”

“Well, obviously you made him look too long!”

Will sighed, using slow movement and stretched fingers to locate his Jello cup. It was the only thing worth eating in this hospital. Whatever else was on the tray did not smell appealing or even really like food now that he thought about it. Alana and Jack had both come to visit him. Unfortunately they had decided to do so at the same time. The fallout from their meeting outside the courtrooms and hearings had been going on for some time now, the combatants growing in volumes as verbal blows were exchanged and landed. Will was genuinely surprised a nurse hadn’t shown up yet to shush them or kick them out. This was a place of healing after all. Jack’s overly loud rants could hardly be categorized as medicinal or therapeutic. 

“I’m blind, not deaf. I‘m also sitting right here.” Will reminded them helpfully. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest when he was ignored, Alana and Jack too wrapped up in their point of views to take notice. Shrugging for his own benefit, Will focused on spooning gelatin out as carefully as possible to his mouth, considering it was the only thing worth eating. He pleasantly discovered it was lime flavored. Will mused that it was kind of fun to be surprised by food now.

Feeling responsible for Will due to the part she had inadvertently played and much to Will‘s own amusement, Alana had created a mission in life for herself. Like a righteous angel of vengeance, she seemed bound and determined to personally avenge Will of every grievance that she considered Jack‘s fault. Not only was Alana fighting for Will to keep his job at the academy, she had hired a lawyer on Will’s behalf to sue Jack via the FBI for not only recklessly endangering Will’s life but for also being the cause of his self destruction. 

It was a sweet gesture on her part but Will couldn’t have cared less. He was too busy enjoying himself at the moment. His whole life had been spent dealing with his terrible gifts. They were still there but feeble from the damage he had inflicted upon them. It was like he had been living with a crushing pressure that had surrounded him nearly to the point of suffocation, permanently on the highest setting. By cutting out his own eyes, Will was finding that he had accidentally achieved some sort of normalcy. His other senses were heightened but were working in tandem with each other now, instead of against him. Sight had been such a poor leader to them. 

Though toned down to manageably levels, Will’s empathy was still present as his hearing dissected Alana’s and Jack’s voices, cataloguing the wealth of emotions found in both, He scented the air, smelling spicy aggression, the bitter tang of sorrow, and the sweet sour aroma of guilt though different versions of it. Alana felt guilty by association, the odor of it light and almost floral, but Jack reeked of it, sweating it out of his pores vinegary and acidic like a recovering junkie. 

As entertaining as this was, Will felt the need to clear the air a bit. “Alana, could you please give me a minute alone with Jack?” Will said firmly as he set aside his cup. He was proud of himself for placing it back in its spot on the tray and not into the mush that was poorly imitating sustenance. 

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” Alana glowered, Will easily envisioning the pointed glare that she was sending Jack’s way. If looks could kill, Jack would have been gelded, drawn, and quartered many times over.

“I’ll be fine. I’m of no use to him now. Too broken.” Will admitted easily. Partially because it was true, but mostly because it would hurt. When he heard a sharp intake of breath, Will knew the barb had struck where he had intended. 

“Fine. I’ll be out in the hall. Call me if you need me.” Alana sounded more than a little smug, a good gauge of the severity his comment had inflicted upon Jack. Will listened to the click of her heels, the opening and shutting of doors, and the silent exchange of enraged and outraged looks.

“Will……” Jack started now that they were alone, the man trailing off not knowing where to begin, sounding to upset and mad to continue.

“You sound tired.” Will picked up the line of conversation for him.

“I haven’t been getting my beauty sleep.” Jack sighed, his tone weary. “I’m sure you can imagine why.”

“You didn’t break me, you know. Your conscious is clear on my account.” Will decided to just cut to chase.

“Then why did you…” Jack didn’t seem to be having any luck with words today. “Make me understand. How did it come to this?”

“I saw too many truths. It’s simple as that.” Will shrugged, the gesture more for Jack‘s benefit than his own. 

“This doesn’t feel simple. Nothing ever does when Lecter is involved.” Jack snapped, sounding bitter. “He’s the one that found you, right?”

“Don’t take your anger out on him for my actions.” Will sighed. How typical of Jack, looking to everywhere else and to anyone else who could alleviate the burden of his own guilt.

“He’s your therapist! He should have seen the signs! He should have done something, told me….” Jack argued, his booming voice already beginning to pick up volume.

“Told you what, Jack?” Will said sharply, cutting him before he could pick up momentum. “That I was unfit for field work? We all knew that. It was only a matter of time before something gave. It was always going to be a when, not a where or a how. Don‘t drag Lecter into this. He’s a therapist, not a psychic. You can’t blame him for the inevitable”

“I can and I will. I thought you two were close, damn it.” Jack muttered, his tone turning sullen and defeated. Will smiled, the expression soft and slight. As per usual, the expression never reached his eyes and now it never would. 

“We are. We always will be in a way.” 

oOo

The duel visits left Will feeling drained, so much so he didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep until he found himself waking up to the sounds of containers being opened and the delicious smell of grilled, seasoned meat punctuate the air with a savory smoky goodness that made Will‘s mouth water. There was really only one that could come with such odors.

“Hello Dr. Lecter.” Will mumbled sleepily, resisting the urge to rub the eyes that were no longer in his head. There was a thick bandage placed over the empty sockets but the doctors still didn’t want him touching that region. For once, Will followed his physician’s wishes. He had done enough already.

“Hello Will. How are you feeling?” Hannibal’s voice was soft, accented, and more alluring than Will remembered, every note of it a revelation. Will found himself turning toward it whether he meant to or not.

“Blind.” Will answered simply to be met with the silence of one completing a task rather than guilt or awkwardness of any variety. It was kind of refreshing after being bludgeoned over the head with Alana‘s and Jack‘s own. “You came. I didn’t think you would. Not now.” Will continued to fill the space. Hannibal might not feel self conscious but he was beginning to. 

“Why?” Hannibal sounded more curious than surprised or hurt by the assumption. Being what he knew Hannibal was, Will wondered if he could ever truly experience either emotion.

“I’m a puppet who cut its own strings. I can’t dance for you anymore. I’m useless.” Will said bluntly. It was easy to be unflinchingly honest now that he didn’t have to play eye chicken anymore with people. 

“You’ve never been useless. You were Jack’s puppet, never mine.” Hannibal said softly. Will jumped as a light hand cupped his cheek, strong fingers fanning out to grip at his jaw. Will resisted the urge to draw back, holding still in the other man’s touch. Will was rewarded for his compliance as something warm and tender was pressed to his lips and past them, smelling like fresh herbs, buttery sauce, and excellence. Unashamed by what was happening to his taste buds, Will groaned around his required mouthful, the meat cooked so soft and succulent it practically melted on his tongue.

As if in reward, another small piece was placed to his lips, more of a suggestion this time rather than a prompt. Will accepted it readily, his tongue brushing up against Hannibal‘s fingers. He lightly bit down on the digits to keep them in place so that he could swipe his tongue across their prints teasingly. To Will’s delight and surprise, Hannibal let him, the doctor keeping posed and still as any statue. When Hannibal’s fingers were thoroughly cleaned, Will released them. “Is puppet too mundane a word for you?” he grinned, feeling the hospital bed dip as he joined upon it,. He would have shifted over to make room but was held gently in place, Hannibal moving to sit behind him. 

“My knight, not my pawn.” Hannibal murmured sounding entranced as he began to feed Will small pieces of tender meat again, the kind of which he hadn’t bothered to identity. They both knew what it was. The ‘who’ was irrelevant. After being subjected what laughingly passed off as food in hospitals and essentially living off of Jello, Will was starving for a decent meal. He couldn’t really bring himself to care that someone had had to die for it. 

“In shining armor? How romantic.” Will chuckled around his meal seasoned to perfection by skillful cruelty and vicious intent. This experience was becoming rapidly intimate for Will with Hannibal’s thighs on either side of his own, caging him, the doctor’s ridiculously expensive version of Tupperware resting in his lap. His back was pressed flush to Hannibal’s chest as the doctor held him in place with one hand on his throat and the other continually pressing food to his mouth. “What am I now to you? Dinner? An appetizer? You’ve already eat my eyes. Is the rest of me destined to grace your table as a main course?” Will managed out in between savory bites.

“I would have hated them to go to waste.” Hannibal said, his lips grazing the back of Will’s neck, making his shiver at the dry silken sounds of flesh touching. 

“What did they taste like?” Will asked. He was genuinely curious. 

“Unburdened sorrow, unshed bitter tears, and blood that left a lingering sweetness in the mouth.” Hannibal murmured the unlikely description into the shell of his ear.

“An artist and a poet. Ironic that I’m learning more about you blind….” Will gasped as he cut himself off, Hannibal’s teeth sinking into the crook of his neck, clamping down to bruise but not render. 

“You didn’t….”, Hannibal whispered harshly into the rapidly darkening flesh, dispersing his anger into Will‘s shoulder with quick bites. Will had no idea how they were going to explain themselves if a nurse happened to walk in on them. He found he didn’t really care though. 

“I did.” Will interrupted, taking the risk of being impolite with the psychopath gnawing on him. “There was no other way. I would have killed you or you would have killed me. Like this, we have options.”

“All in my favor.” Hannibal pointed out, his grip on Will‘s pulse tightening to the point of pain before releasing. 

“It’s always been in your favor. The games been rigged the entire time so why change now? You decide whether or not to end this…..end me.” Will admitted easily enough, catching his breath back. It was almost surreal how serene he felt in this moment, with evil at his back and stroking the arch of his neck with a killing touch. “I promise I’ll never see it coming.”

“Tell me why. I fear I do not understand.” Hannibal admitted, giving of himself so that he could receive. This was one of the reasons he was so drawn to the empath, Will’s motivations and methods to his madness a Pandora’s box of mystery and secrets to Hannibal. It was entertaining as it was engaging. 

“Love is blind.” Will said wistfully, relaxing back against his killer as he enjoyed the sensations of their body heat mingling and the rare feel of movement from another body against his own. “The thought of losing you made it all worth it. So I broke myself, cut out my own eyes because I couldn’t live in a world without seeing you in it, even if you’re not mine or by my side. I am…..was the only one who could have caught you. Jack knew it. You knew it. I knew it so I took myself out of the equation. You’re safe now and that‘s all that really matters to me.”

“I can not give you the relationship that you want, at least not in the normal manner. I fear I may be too entirely removed from the concept of such things by now.” Hannibal warned, his voice hushed and cold as winter’s air. 

“Normal has never worked for me before. Why start now?” Will decided. “Anyway, I’m flexible. Do the best you can. I’m more interested in knowing if you want to be with me. Can we be together, with me like this? Or am I too damaged even for you?”

The food was plucked from Will laps and set neatly aside. The empath found himself being arranged so that he that he now straddled Hannibal’s lap, his hands placed on broad shoulders. They were bonier in composition and more covered in sinewy muscle than he remembered under the feel of the suit’s expensive material. 

The kiss pressed to his lips was gentle answer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, I wrote something else for the blind!Will AU. I'll just leave this here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blind!will, domestic, some fluff, and smex. What more do you want?

Very little in Will’s life had changed. Sometimes it was the continued state of its normalcy that surprised him the most. He still lived in his little house in Wolf Trap, Virginia, though it had been made newly blind habitable. Corners were padded, pathways though his house were cleared, and all his electronics were voice commanded now. His books were replaced with audio while he was still learning Braille, and special programs were uploaded into his computer and laptop to help with his dissertation and navigating the internet. 

Will still had his job, his real one and not the one forced upon him by Jack who wasn‘t allowed within a certain footage of him anymore either. He did have an assistant now who helped him out with his classes, the paperwork and social aspect of it at least, since Will could just skpe his lectures for the comforts of his living room. Alana had fought for his teaching position and won, though Will didn’t really need to work ever again if he didn’t feel like it. Apparently emotional trauma paid out quite a lot, especially when a high profile cannibalistic serial killer was involved. His case had been unexpectedly helped when the Chesapeake Ripper decided to blind his next sounder of victims. After that series of heavily publicized brutal murders, the FBI folded like a house of cards in court. They couldn’t pay Will off fast enough so that the media would forget him. Freddie Lounds was surprisingly beneficial for once as well, the tabloid reporter shamelessly sneaking into the hospital to take pictures of Will while he was still in the hospital, his ruined eyes bound in thick gauze. The last laugh was on her though, the vicious lawyer Alana hired for Will using the tabloid reporter’s footage as visual aid for his closing arguments. 

Glasses were still an accessory for Will and were even worn for the same reasons of other people’s benefit and social avoidance. When he had cut out his own eyes, Will had managed to leave the lids of them intact. The thin delicate skin remained closed over the scarred pits but were sunken in. Will was told it was disconcerting to behold so as cliché as it was, he wore dark glasses when he went out in public or was visited. Will did like how by merely taking off his glasses that he could end or begin an argument, almost always in his favor with minimal effort of his part. People didn’t like being stared down by sightless voids, the self inflicted lacerations to his orbital sockets thick with ragged scars when he chose to reveal them.

Will still fished, the path to and from his house well worn and easy to follow. With fishing pole in hand as a makeshift cane and dogs in tow, Will would tap his way down to the stream near his home. Alana wasn’t too keen on the idea of him doing that but Beverly thought it was great so Will decided to go with the opinion that worked toward his personal interests and ran with it. 

“Hello Will.”

And probably most surprising of all, that hadn’t changed either. Will still had Hannibal, or more accurately, Hannibal still had him.

“Hello, Doctor Lecter.” Will said, turning his head in the general direction of his other’s voice. He had heard a car pull up but hadn’t cared enough to find out who it was. Will had been comfortably napping in a patch of sunlight with his dogs on the floor cushions, enjoying the waning sunlight, the lingering warmth that it brought and the soft rumble slumbering canines, the feel of soft fur on his skin.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” Hannibal asked, polite as ever though they both knew that Will really didn’t have any real say in the matter but maintaining appearances was important. Will shrugged in answer from his spot on the floor, holding out his hands. Cool dry skin met his own, making Will shiver when it made him think of reptiles. Will was pulled to his feet with ease, not disturbing anymore considering the source.

“I’ve already called your assistant. She will be taking care of your dogs.” Hannibal said smoothly, drawing Will to his side. Will could feel the doctor leaning in to scent him, his inhalations soft and even as heartbeats.

“I hope you didn’t scare the poor girl. I like her.” Will said softly, standing perfectly still as Hannibal took what he wanted from him. 

“You will be staying with me for a while.” Hannibal informed, the doctor’s lips brushing up against the shell of Will’s ear. A slick tongue tasted the plush flesh of Will’s lobe, sucking at it lightly, sharp teeth teasing sensitive skin to turn it tender and pink. Will held still, giving nothing back but his quiet submission as he waited for the possible immanent pain and blood. He had already given Hannibal his eyes and the killer his freedom. What was a little bit more of self really to him in the long run?

To Will’s light surprise, the expected damage never came as Hannibal drew back, apparently satisfied. “Don’t I get a say in the matter?” Will offered some token resistance. He swayed and stumbled when he was suddenly released from Hannibal’s hold, the doctor drawing away to somewhere deeper in the house. Will tried not to feel too forlorn about it. He knew deep down that Hannibal would never let him off that easily for long. 

“Doctor’s orders.” Hannibal called out from where Will estimated was his bedroom. He could just hear the smirk in the cocky bastard’s voice. It amazed him that Hannibal had able to retain his position as his psychiatrist. Either the doctor had a way with words that lawyers and the devil himself would covet or other people were really just that stupid. Based on who he talked to, Will’s opinion on the matter changed from day to day. 

“Oh good. I was beginning to worry.” Will snorted, focusing on his remaining senses. It sounded like Hannibal was packing for him. From the extended racket of it, Will began to wonder how long he was going to be gone. The amount of clothing being sorted, discarded, and folded hinted toward more than just a few days. 

“I have a job.” Will reminded absently, trying to make himself care. He had a feeling that sort of minor detail about life was for other people, more normal individuals whose friends weren’t psychopaths and cannibals. 

“I have already informed the FBI that you require an extended vacation for counseling. Alana will be covering for you while you recover.” Hannibal said, his voice coming nearer but without making a sound, his footfalls like that of a cat. The man moved too softly in Will’s opinion. “You are quite traumatized.”

“I am?” Will said dryly. “I wonder why.”

“That is the growing concern among your peers. You are in dire need of my help.” Hannibal assured him.

“I feel so much better now knowing my mental health is in your capable hands.” Will managed to say without too much sarcasm coloring his words. He was quite proud of himself for his restraint.

“Will…..” and that was way too close, Hannibal voice sounding right to his ear, the hot air from a puff of annoyance playing merry hell over Will‘s skin. “…I didn’t cut your eyes out.” Will found his arm being taken gently at the elbow as a jacket was pressed into his hands. He was led outside, listening to Hannibal as he locked up his house.

“No. Your solution to problems tend to be more permanent and covered in fancy sauces.” Will pointed out.

Hannibal said nothing in return but Will could hear his answering smirk.

oOo

Will sat in what felt like a huge bathtub made of some sort of cool stone. It was probably marble, felt like it, all smooth and chilly to the touch. He wondered what color it was. Will had never been in Hannibal’s personal bathroom before so he had no memory of it to reference but he couldn’t see Hannibal picking out something as boring as white. The man certainly loved his dramatic color schemes. The almost too hot water he was cooking in smelled like lemongrass and mint, and was surprisingly invigorating. Hannibal moved around somewhere in the background but Will paid little attention to him, more amused by feeling up his wrinkling toes with equally pruned fingers. 

The sounds of implements being laid out on stone for easy access made Will leave off contemplating his shriveled phalanges. Hannibal was generally pretty considerate, making enough noise to let Will know when he was close by. Taking into account how quietly the good doctor could move, Will appreciated the gesture, the empath holding still as he patiently awaited whatever Hannibal had planned for him. 

His chin was gripped firmly, making Will tilt his head upward. A fragrant lather that smelled of sweet cream was applied to his face with a light touch, velvety soft and warmed. Will just knew it was made from scratch especially for him, Hannibal‘s own shaving cream scented with the more earthen and spice notes of sandalwood. Steely fingers held him still, though the grip upon him was unnecessary in Will’s opinion as the chill of sharpened steel was pressed to his face to glide over its surface, the usual scraping noise almost silken from a razor honed so sharp. He would expect nothing less from the Ripper.

In quick practiced movements by surgeon steady hands, Will’s beard was removed, his skin left smooth with barely a trace of foam upon it. A warm moist towel was used to wipe off any residue. While in the shower prior to his bath, Will had already been made to endure personal grooming on a level he had never experienced before, his body hair trimmed, removed, and scraped back to whatever Hannibal’s preference was. Will didn’t offer any complaint or opinion on the matter. It wasn’t like he could see it or do it himself. His fingernails and toenails were given similar treatments of patient care. Will made a noise in protest when his skin was lathered with a gritty paste, the concoction rubbed into his pores. It felt nice but sort of odd. 

“It is a sugar scrub I make myself from brown sugar, olive oil, and lemon juice.” Hannibal said, applying more. Will sniffed at his sugared shoulder before he tasted it, letting the oily concoction melt slowly on his tongue. 

“Sweetening me up for dessert?” Will teased, the joke on an entirely different level considering his host.

“Will, you will always be a main course.” Hannibal told him, making the man lean toward him so that he could apply the same treatment to his back. Will acquiesced completely, falling forward even further until his forehead clunked against the edge of the tub. Hannibal tutted, pausing briefly to check on him, finding nothing of concern other than a dull red mark.

“What color is it?” Will asked because he was curious. He continued when he was met with an air of silent question. “The bathtub. The room. Tell me about it. I’ve never been in here before. I bet it’s beautiful just like everything else in your house.”

“You like my house?” Hannibal sounded amused about something, his tone tinged with pride.

“Everyone likes your house or is at least impressed by it. You are well aware of this. It’s what you aim for.” Will mumbled into the marble and warm sweetened water.

“I like to hear compliments from you. You are not an easy man to impress or one who cares about such materialistic things.” Hannibal said as he drained the water so that he could begin to rinse Will off with fresh.

“I care about them even less now.” Will shrugged, bluntly honest as always and made even more so now that he didn‘t have to live through the other person‘s reaction.

“So why do you want to know? I could tell you anything.” Hannibal mused as he considered Will’s mop of wet curls, deciding not to trim the dark locks. He envisioned Will with longer hair, how it would curl loosely all about his head to frame it in dark chocolate waves, made satiny with the level of care Hannibal was planning to commit to it. Will didn’t take care of himself properly when he could see so he wasn’t about to start now while blind. No one else bothered with his well being either so Hannibal appointed himself the position of responsibility. Will was his after all, and Hannibal was a man who took great care of his property. 

“Maybe I just like the sound of your voice.” Will smiled vaguely at nothing. He didn’t even know if he was flirting or trying to. It seemed a silly thing to do, like playing with a ball studded with razors. He would be the only to blame and it would come of no surprise if he ended up cutting himself. “Lie to me or tell the truth. It will all sound the same. So what will it be, Doctor Lecter? What is your design? Will you feed me beautiful lies or exquisite truths?”

“The room is made of black marble and slate, a contrast between the two, the marble polished and the slate matte. The grout has been dyed to match the stonework seamlessly. All the fixtures are cast in blackened steel and modern in design. The material accents in the room are a woven scarlet and black pattern similar to the background of a Van Gogh painting. My towels are a shade of darker red, crimson.” Hannibal described, cupping his hands to pour water over Will’s face, slicking back his dark hair to expose his face. He was tired of Will always trying to hide it. Even with sunk pits for eyes, the empath was still lovelier than he had any right to be, reminding Hannibal of a Renaissance’s muse, though which painter or sculptor he would have influenced was still up for debate.

Leaning in to press his lips to Will’s own, Hannibal breathed in deep, reveling in the scents of wet clean flesh that was warm and breathing. Will held a calm about him now that was hard to resist. Before he had been like fire, burning uncontrollably from being overfed on stimuli that constantly poured out at him from all sides. Now Will was like a water, fluid and giving, his surface placid with a stillness that Hannibal wanted to disturb to see how it rippled. Will had such sweet and easy peace now. Hannibal wanted to ruin it or become its sole focus and source. 

“I am going to rinse you off now. Submerge you.” Hannibal whispered low into Will’s mouth, keeping their lips touching, grazing one another as he spoke. “Do you trust me?”

In answer, Will caught Hannibal’s lower lip between his teeth, biting into soft flesh until it bled. He lapped at the indentations left behind, wiping away the welling crimson with the flat of his tongue. As Will drew back with painted lips, one hand was placed to his face and the other on his chest over his heart, Will letting himself be dipped beneath the water’s surface. He smiled into the palm of a sadistic killer as he was baptized, the salted water feeling more sanctified than anything he had ever experienced before in church so long ago when he still believed in God and angels and the good of men. Holding a breath that may be his last, Will realized that he must still believe in God, if just a little bit. It was hard not to with the Devil holding him under.

Like a miracle or on a capricious whim, Will was allowed back up, taking in air with a sigh instead of a gasp.

 

oOo

Strangely enough, Will liked Hannibal’s dining room even more so now that he couldn‘t see it. The man grew all his own herbs, the planters for them built right into the wall though their presence was subterfuged by a mural. Will had never really noticed it before but could now appreciate the scents of fresh basil, rosemary, mint, and many other fragrant herbs that mingled in the breathing space and lent a unique spiciness to it. 

At the moment that was all Will did was breath in and out. He was seated at Hannibal’s table where everything was sparkling crystal, polished glass, and entirely too breakable for a blind man to be flailing about looking for a sip of water. Will knew how much Hannibal loved his presentation and his army of glassware, so Will just stayed put in one place, listening to his host move about in the kitchen and to the fountain outside the glass doors.

Will tried to remember what the fountain looked like or if he even ever seen it, having no reason to go in Hannibal’s backyard but damned if he could remember. Maybe he had only just ever heard it in the background of his mind. It sounded like one of the Japanese bamboo balancing ordeals, the hollow of a cut bamboo piece being slowly filled up by a continuous trickle of water, only to empty out it contents with a soft plonking sound when it unbalanced and do it all over again. Somehow it wouldn’t surprise Will if it was. It was strangely soothing to listen to, Will lulled nearly into sleep by the rhythm while sitting up. 

The soft strains of violins drew Will back to the world of the waking, the click of porcelain upon porcelain, signaling that dinner was done and being placed in front of him. “My apologies. I should have put on some music for you. Do you have a preference toward any particular composer or genre?” Hannibal said softly, his accents working in strangely well with the background music.

“No. I’m fine with whatever.” Will murmured back, feeling Hannibal’s fingers skimming along the sides of his face, letting the man know he was close before Hannibal adjusted the blindfold. After his bath, a length of soft cloth that Will felt could only be real silk had been wrapped around his head, over his eyes. 

It was for aesthetic purposes only of course. Will knew that Hannibal didn’t care about his sunken eyelids but the man lived to create art out of flesh. Will was no exception whether he was still breathing or not. He had been dressed for dinner with such great care, the clothing fitted to his body, obviously tailored for it. Exploration through touch informed Will that it was a suit, three piece and made from softer stuff than he had ever worn before. Hannibal had refrained from adding a tie though, and had left the top three buttons of his shirt open as if to keep with some hint of Will’s own natural casual sense. Will felt like he was being polished and honed into something else, but being left particular unique characteristics, like a muddy goad that was sliced into glittering sections, revealing its magnificent secrets. He was the new piece of conversation, striking enough to belong in Hannibal‘s home to become a part of it. 

“I hope you like rabbit. We are having Lapin A La Cocotte, a delicious presentation of red wine and bacon cooked long and slow so that the meat falls right off of the bone. Serve over buttery egg noodles and you have a simple dish that is a feast for the senses.” Hannibal explained the meal as he placed Will’s napkin in his lap, guiding the blind man’s hands to his silverware. 

“Someone didn’t hop fast enough.” Will snickered, finding his food slowly with the tips of his silverware. Visually impaired or not, Hannibal would expect him to be act civilized at his dinner table, or at very least try to make his best efforts toward it. Muscle memory and a lifetime of practice served him well but Will took it slow to spare his new clothing and the linen in his lap. 

“Luckily for us, he did not.” and didn’t Hannibal sound positively smug about it. If Will had any doubts about the what or more accurately the who he was eating, Hannibal’s tone alone dismissed them all. 

“Cocky bastard. Pride and all that, Doctor. You’re going to make a mistake.” Will warned even as he smiled around his fork. The meat was tender enough Will didn’t even have to work at it with his teeth, the fragile protein disintegrating on his tongue in bursts of vivid flavor. He was met with a frigid sort of silence like that of an offended cat, one that was staring him down with murderous intent. 

“Is that so?” Hannibal said, the words sounding clean cut and hard from his accent. Will arched a brow at him, taking note of the doctor’s tell. He realized, not for the first time, that people relied too much on their sight. If they ever truly listened, the rise and fall of Hannibal’s accent alone was a dead giveaway to his state of being. Will smiled in the face of death, showing his teeth to it.

“This is very good. I like it.” Will said instead of answering. He felt himself, his worth while still breathing or not, being considered. 

“I am surprised to hear you say that….” Hannibal said carefully slow. “….knowing what you are privy to now.” 

“What do I care?” Will chuckled, leaning back in his chair to regard his host or that least give the impression that he was. “I don’t mourn a cow when I eat it though I am dimly aware of how cruelly it was treated in life and death to provide me with sustenance. Why should I now especially when I don’t have to bear witness to my meat’s execution or explain the method of its demise to inquiring minds? Anyway, can you pass me some wine? I don’t want to break anything.”

The cool stem of a glass was pressed into Will’s hand, the goblet guided to lips but not his own, Hannibal drinking from his glass. Will waited patiently for Hannibal’s mouth to meet his own, drinking the wine from his lips while carefully lapping up any stray drops. Hannibal’s chin and underside of jaw were slick and wet by the time Will was done with him, the empath very thorough. The spice of the doctor’s aftershave only enhanced the flavor of the wine, amazing Will on so many different levels. There was no way that had been intentional but still managed to work. Hannibal drew back when Will began to playfully nip at his chin, reddening the skin there. 

“Finish your dinner.” Hannibal said, his tone light and companionable again. Will politely hid his smile in his napkin.

oOo

Made to sit on the edge of what felt like an expansive bed of near ridiculous proportions, Will was stripped of his new clothing with slow care and a strange tenderness that he would never have suspected resided in such a proven sadist. Soft kisses were pressed to every inch of his newly exposed skin, its surfaces tasted with swipes of tongue, explored through every sense as Will felt Hannibal scent him, his warm breath fervently moving over moist skin. The attention to all his details left Will panting by the time Hannibal relieved him of his pants. His host hadn’t bothered with underwear for him, something that Will greatly appreciated now as he was consumed all the way down to the root, Hannibal deep throating him with ease.

When slick fingers grazed his ass, Will parted his legs for Hannibal, not wanting to put off the inevitable. Pleased with Will’s compliance, Hannibal hummed around the length as it scraped against the back of his throat, making Will keen in return, the empath flopping back on the bed. It was either that or curl over Hannibal and dig his fingers through the man’s silvery dark hair. Will wasn’t sure if that was allowed and didn’t want to risk it, not when he was feeling everything so acutely. Hannibal was opening him up even as he swallowed him down, the contrasts of sensations pulling Will apart from the inside out. His orgasm curled low and tight in his belly, sparking every time Hannibal stroked over his nerves, his long artisan fingers very clever as they coaxed Will‘s pleasure out of hiding. 

Hannibal was three fingers deep and easing in his thumb by the time Will came, his clenched fists white knuckling high count sheets and his back cracking from the arch it was forced up into to.

Drained of life but nerves still zinging from endorphin overload, Will barely noticed Hannibal pushing his legs wide apart or his knees being bent back to meet his chest as his body as doubled over. Penetration was swift, the force of it knocking any air Will had reclaimed in his lungs. Catching his breath, Will groaned out a pained sound, so suddenly full and aware of everything about it as he clenched down to try and dispel Hannibal from him, the cloud of orgasm effectively dissipated. 

Biting kisses were being placed to his inner thigh as his legs were extended and positioned over broad shoulders. That was all the warning Will got before Hannibal started to move again, the doctor’s fingers like steel points in his skin, keeping him in place and bruising his legs as Will was driven into to. 

“So responsive, so beautiful.” Will heard Hannibal breathe out, the words almost sounding in awe. Despite the rough treatment, Will found his resolve in them pushing back in time to the thrusts instead of just laying there and taking it. He was rewarded for his efforts as his prostate was nailed directly with every push of cockhead and friction of girth. Gritting his teeth, Will braced himself with fanned out hands and shoulders pressed to the bed, stabilizing himself against the onslaught that threatened to overwhelm him. His brain was fried, no longer able to distinguish between what was really painful or pleasurable, every sensation having an edge to it that softened to something warm and syrupy.

Not that Will cared at this point. There was someone talking and it was distracting. It took Will a moment to realize it was himself and he was begging for it with blasphemy and prayers woven artlessly together. In direct counterpoint, Hannibal was silent though his breathing was harsh, almost panting. 

Holding nothing back, Will came again, shouting out his orgasm like it were a revelation. He was blind but he could see so much further, understood more now than ever before. He was lax with pleasure, boneless from it when Hannibal broke above him, his heat of expenditure marking Will deep inside. Will felt properly owned by it, shifting his hips to take in as much as he could of Hannibal while he was still at his peak. Hannibal whispered as he came, the words unintelligible and foreign in composition. Will knew it was the other man’s mother tongue but didn’t dare ask the secrets of it. Even though he was intimately involved at the most base level, this moment was a private one and Will would not intrude, the empath lying still as he could beneath Hannibal as the doctor finished and came back to himself. 

It was thrilling to have a killer lay themselves out on top, Hannibal making Will his bed as they recovered in the afterglow. Trapped between hard flesh and mattress, Will let himself relax, his body molding as comfortably as it could to the man above him who was unnatural still, his own flesh stiff and unyielding. 

“Did I hurt you?” was the unexpected question from Hannibal. Will would have stared at the man in shock if he still had the ability for it. The quietly spoken words from the tense man pressing him into the bed were sincere though. Will gave his hips an experimental roll, the hardness once lodged inside of him soft and sliding out, Will wincing more at the wet sensation of vacancy than the discomfort that came from a firm fucking. 

“I’ll never dance again.” Will said in a solemn tone, overly so. He could feel the glare being directed at his head. “No more than usual. Why do you ask?”

It was only then that Hannibal relaxed against him, taunt corded steel muscle turning back into softer substance, though Will was bit for his sass, his throat baring the mark of Hannibal’s ire. 

“I meant to be gentler with you. I wanted to try at least. I fear I am too removed from the concept of tenderness, especially while in the grip of passion.” Hannibal admitted into the crook of Will’s neck. “You make me want to hurt you, mark you, make you mine.”

“My eyes are only for you.” Will said in all honesty, reaching up so that his fingers lingering over locks of silvery dark hair. “Will my heart soon follow?”

Hannibal‘s answering chuckle was low and darker than what Will could unsee. “Only time will tell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. :) Comments are love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this. Comments are the result of cannibalizing fan fictions. You ingest a little bit of me every time you indulge. Now there is food for thought.


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